lost in stars, lost in you
by grapevines-and-crowns
Summary: short klance fic, post-canon, really just Keith remembering their past a little.
1. lost in stars, lost in you

There were nights neither of them could sleep, afraid of harrowing memories and thoughts unraveling before them if they closed their eyes. Dreams used to be an escape, but now, sinking into that realm led to an uncertainty and panic.

What if they saw things they thought they'd forgotten? Things that reminded them they hadn't left the war unscathed? What if the past caught them off-guard, replaying scenes better left unmentioned?

More than once, one of them had startled awake, clutching the covers, heart pounding in their ears, overwhelming loud. Shaking, they would reach to hold the other and try to remember how to breathe.

It was difficult, the first couple of times. Neither Lance or Keith wanted to be a burden to the other, neither wanted the other to know just how vulnerable they really were. It was all behind them now, anyway, by years and distance, wasn't it? What was there left to be afraid of when the shadows they saw couldn't hurt them physically anymore?

But eventually, they learned to hold out to each other in a mutual solace, chasing away monsters in soft reassurances and kisses, fingers intertwined to ground themselves to something familiar, warm and safe. Scars and blemishes you could see on skin weren't the only ones that were painful.

If their relationship had taught them anything, it was that they were supposed to be there for each other. They'd gone through so much more than anyone their age should've experienced. Their first kiss had been in the heat of the moment, right when they'd believe it would all be over as fire and shots rained down on them; it wasn't on some romantic date with flowers and the soft overhead glow of a streetlamp.

Of course, they'd had some hints before then - the subtle glances, the rare but soft smiles, the way they began to joke and talk more - as friends, not rivals. The light banter they carried didn't have any heat behind it, just a sort of playfulness and rhythm they came to enjoy.

But neither of them could admit aloud, couldn't place words to the way their hearts were fluttering and how they would light up at the mere mention of the other. It'd been awkward, how they danced around, obviously wanting to say more, but never plucking the courage to actually do so. Because, well, how could the other possible feel the same?

Guess it had only taken a near-death situation for actions to be put to those emotions.

How clichè.

But now, as the moon shines, form just a sliver in the sky seen through the window of their bedroom, in a house startling normal and mundane, they whisper, telling stories. Most are nonsense and steal little smiles and giggles from the both of them, as they lay under the constellations of the glow-in-the-dark-stars on their ceiling. Keith had thought the green, luminous objects had been too childish, but Lance had insisted.

He didn't regret the addition to the room.

"So then Veronica comes after me - mind you she still had chicken feathers stuck to her hair - and she's mad, but she's laughing too. I was totally screwed . . ."

Lance continues, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tells of his childhood, happiness laced in his tone. He seems so content, so at peace.

And Keith is lost, in the color of those eyes, in the world he holds within those blue irises that remind him of an ocean; constantly moving, vast, holding so many mysteries he wants to unravel. He's lost in that voice, in the love they share. He has an entire galaxy, a universe within him, and Keith realizes he's apart of it.

Maybe he's always been, in some way. Lance had always talked about "soulmates", "stars aligning", and "fate", subjects Keith had always been doubtful of. To him, Mothman being real had been so much more likely. (And he was still trying to prove the crytpid's existence after all these years away from Earth. Hey, if purple furry aliens were real - his mother had been one - then why was Mothman so far-fetched?)

But...

Maybe Keith was starting to believe it - that stuff about destiny.

Maybe the universe, for all the misfortune and confusion it brought, also created unimaginable connections that somehow worked and clicked.

How else would he be here, wrapped up in Lance's embrace, in a world it seems he's just beginning to know, but will never get tired of?

They'd been at odds with each other because they were almost complete opposites, but it had been those same differences that drew them together.

As Galaxy Garrison cadets, Paladins of Voltron, teammates, friends . . . and finally lovers. The paths they were on had diverged at one point, completely straying away from each other, but they ended up crossing again.

Two people, with the same name and face, but different. Changed by having to figure out who they really were in a time of war, loss, and uncertainty. Where one mistake could mean failing yourself and everyone you cared about - at the cost of your own life.

So yeah. Fate might have had something to do with it.

Lance, eventually, grows tired, he can tell, as his voice drifts off to mumbles. So he reaches up, traces the slope of his nose with his thumb, then brushes over his lips, hand finally coming to rest on his cheek. Lance hums, then mutters softly, closing his eyes. He places a gentle kiss Keith's eyebrow, seemingly by accident - he probably meant to aim for his temple - with a sleepy, "Love you."

For a moment, Keith doesn't speak, air gone from his lungs and brain short circuits, until he remembers to breathe. Right. Because oxygen is important. He smiles, and says -- almost inaudibly -- "I love you too."

He sleeps peacefully that night, dreaming about waves of blue and faraway galaxies.


	2. lovesick

i.

the first time you kissed me, a lifetime ago, you were bathed in festival lights and had stars of glitter in your hair. I threaded my fingers through those hazel strands, because I was afraid -- afraid you were an illusion and you'd fade away, leaving me with nothing but the startling reality of waking from a dream and an ache in my heart. but you were there when we separated, mouth curving upwards and the corner of your eyes crinkling, your voice bubbling and nervous. asking me to dance, taking my hand when -- for whatever reason -- I said yes.

the music rumbled in our bodies, seeping into our bones -- it was intoxicating, that impression of being carefree, of letting the worry of tomorrow slip away. our words were drowned out by the speakers pouring out lyrics and notes, so we leaned in close to hear each other, like we were telling each other our secrets.

in some way, we were.

you lead, then I did. back and forth, back and forth, a pendulum of dancing feet and hands on hips, on shoulders. our steps weren't perfect, our bodies a beat too late to the rhythm of the music - but we were laughing, linking our fingers together like we were never going to let go.

but eventually, we did.

ii.

we never rushed anything in our relationship. it was new to both of us, and we explored and drew back layers, but not once was it invasive.

it took me time to tell you about my father, mother, and being raised in the system before shiro and his family. being vulnerable, exposing and laying it in front of you should have been terrifying.

and it definitely was -- but your sincerity and willingness to understand made it easier. things weren't difficult with you, and the stories that had been comfortable on my tongue for so long made themselves known to you.

you told me about your family, your own insecurities, and the shit you'd gone through.

it made us closer; two disasters that found each other and wanted to be better.

that's what led to those awkward dates and movie nights and holding hands under the covers, those eskimo kisses and feather light touches and talking under the skies drizzled in stardust.

that's what led to 'us'.

iii.

the days I broke down and cried you were there.

you wouldn't ask me any questions, not before I was ready. you'd just hold me and let sink into your essence, until I could finally breathe again. and after that, you listened to me, not uttering a word, your eyes not leaving me.

I would do the same for you, always.

we'd be better afterwards, knowing we were there for each other and we didn't have to be afraid of letting our guard down. we didn't have to hide anything.

we couldn't always be together -- between school and work and thousand smaller things, our schedules were sometimes filled to the brim.

but even when we were busy, you'd set aside time for us.

like when we bought street foods and walked around the city until our feet ached and our cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

when we bought cinnamon dusted churros and arizonas, and afterwards we'd drive to a bookstore and find the most ridiculous novels to give each other.

when we hit the arcade games; you, complaining ms. pacman had better legs than yours -- a total lie -- and bemoaning the absurdity of the claw machine you never won anything from.

when we ambled at the beach, collecting seashells and hearing seagulls scream in the distance. the warm sand and the water to our knees, waves and waves and waves. the tang of salt on our tongue with the sweetness of the ice cream that melted down our fingers.

when we were home, choosing a random program and letting it run until we focused less on the screen and more on each other's faces; kissing on the couch, leaving the t.v. long forgotten.

I lost count of how many times I fell in love with you.

iv.

so when it began to unravel, that thing you and I had, I didn't want to believe it.

I think the point where the spiderweb cracks in our relationship splintered into fractures was when college rolled around. you wanted to move away, to a better school, but I content with staying where I was. your dreams included a different path I wasn't interested in.

we fought, but in the end, we agreed we could make it work.

we couldn't.

the distance drifted us apart -- it was more than the miles between us, more than only seeing you as a collection of pixels on my screen and hearing your voice through a speaker.

something shifted. we weren't the same. we couldn't keep going on, not with the way we were trying to. forcing ourselves to.

our breakup wasn't exactly easy, but it wasn't the worst either. we had those smiles plastered on both our faces that didn't match our eyes when we ended it. but it was the best for us at the time.

after it, I kept thinking that we were never meant to be together. everything had to have been a mistake.

we kept talking, kept in touch. a video call at first, then text messaging once or twice a week, as friends. nothing more, nothing less.

but sometimes I would find myself still thinking of you, thinking of your love. sometimes I would catch myself staring at the sky, wondering if you were doing the same.

and after all this time, I haven't kissed a set of lips quite like yours, I haven't experienced the things I'd felt with you with anyone else and I think --

I think that maybe some part of me still loves you and would be willing to give 'us' a second chance.

crazy, right?

I just . . . I wonder if our story isn't over yet.

v.

 _or maybe I'm just a lovesick fool who couldn't move on._


End file.
